Hello
by tii-chan17
Summary: After a horrible accident, seven year-old Orihime is miraculously presented with the very thing she needs most - a friend. But as she grows older, her desires change. AU, inspired by song but not a song fic. Rated because I can.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: YES, I'VE FINALLY DONE AN ULQUIHIME FIC! *cheers insanely*  
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**I promised dragonballzlover I'd do one ageeesss ago, so now this one's dedicated to her! Hope you like it, doll!  
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**This will be my first three-shot, and I've already finished it. So, the normal weekly updates every Saturday (even though it's Sunday today), unless I suddenly die or go on holiday or something. I really hope I don't die.  
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**This is inspired by the song Hello by Evanescence, but it isn't a song fic. I haven't got the lyrics in the story, but they're really beautiful, and after you've read the thing (amazing vocabulary, no?) you could guess which lyrics inspired which bit of the fic. It's a suggestion. You don't have to. XP  
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**Btw, this is an AU, in which Orihime lives in England, and Ulquiorra is not a Hollow. So he's not going to be so...emotionless in this fic. He's not going to be skipping round waving sunflowers either, though, don't worry. Just don't flame me for some of his more OOC moments, please. You will be ignored.  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters. All credit to Kubo Tite (the author, in case you didn't know). I also don't own the song Hello by Evanescence. Or Evanescence, for that matter. Do not sue. I can't afford it.**

* * *

Hello

I sit in my corner of the playground, listlessly poking at some daisies growing in front of me. Daisies are my favourite flowers, but nothing is as much fun without Anwynne about.

Anwynne's my best friend. We moved here, to England, at the same time, her from Wales and me from Japan. I don't really remember Japan much, but I know how to speak the language because my brother Sora always used to speak to me in it. I don't think it was a happy place for us, though, because Sora doesn't like talking about it. I don't think Mummy and Daddy were very nice to us, so we ran away.

We arrived in England just in time for my third birthday, and I remember my first Wednesday in pre-school was also the birthday of a little blonde girl with a funny accent. We made friends and shared our birthday cupcakes with each other, because that's what friends do.

I remember that we laughed at the strangeness of each other's names, too. Mine means Caged Princess, and hers means Owl.

We've been friends ever since then. Four years now, almost. Only one more finger, and it will be a whole hand! We've decided to have a big party on that day.

But Anwynne hasn't been in school for three days now. One day isn't too bad; probably a cold or something. Her parents are really strict about her being safe. But two days is a bit weird. And three is…very, very strange.

My brow furrows in worry. I hope she's okay, she's the only person I can play with now that Sora's working all the time.

Determined, I make plans to go round her house after school; it's only a two-minute walk from my own. Her parents have never liked me, but they can't not tell me what's wrong, right?

My mind made up, I nod to myself. That's what I'll do.

"Orihime? What on Earth are you doing here?" Anwynne's mum opens the door. I sigh inwardly. She's more snooty than Anwynne's dad, so I don't really like her.

"I came to ask if Anwynne's okay?" I whisper softly, keeping my eyes trained on my feet, feeling her eyes burn holes in the back of my head.

Anwynne's mother sniffs, and her eyes go all watery and weird. I'm really scared now, because grown-ups aren't supposed to cry. Ever.

"Anwynne was hit by a car on Saturday. She died in hospital later that evening," Anywynne's mum chokes out before she slams the door in my face.

I stay there, on the doorstep, for a very long time.

_I don't understand,_ I think desperately, _Anwynne's gone? Forever? But we haven't been friends for a whole hand yet! It can't be real. It's not real._

Finally, my feet un-stick themselves from the ground and I plod off in the direction of my own home. Sora won't be back yet, the short hand's only on three, so it's four more hours to go yet.

I let myself in through the back door, fetching the secret key only me and Sora know about. I drop my satchel carelessly onto the floor, not bothering to unpack my lunch as I normally do. I feel a fleeting guilt about the extra work for Sora, but I soon forget it.

I thought I'd cry, or scream, or curl up in a ball and dry up, but I don't do any of these things. I just…live.

I feel nothing, and it's scary. It's really, really scary because it makes me a monster, and monsters are scary and I don't want to be a monster. When Sora's angry, he says Mummy and Daddy were monsters, and he hates them. I don't want to be a monster that's hated by everyone!

I want my friend back.

Why won't she come back?

Finally, the tears come, and I stumble to my bedroom door. I will curl up under my special blanket and cry for a bit and then everything will be better. Everything's always better after I cry.

I open the door.

And stop.

Forgotten tears stream down my face and fall onto the carpet with a dull plopping sound, but I don't pay any attention to them.

There's someone sitting on my bed.

And they're looking right at me.

The someone opens his mouth and speaks. "Hello," he says.

"He—hello?" I whisper back, manners overriding the shock in my head.

There is a long silence, until I speak again. "Um…who are you?"

The someone looks at me with bright green eyes that look dead behind the colour. "I am the apparition created by your mind to give you what you need most," he tells me.

I'm confused. I'm not really sure what apparition means, but I can guess. I'm confused about how he could have been created by my mind. I don't remember making him. And I don't think I could make anyone as perfect as he is, anyway.

"What do I need most?" I ask, wiping tears off my cheeks and looking at him properly, without them making my sight go blurry.

"A friend," he replies simply.

"My friend's gone," I say, feeling my voice stick in my throat, though it comes out normal-ish.

"I know." The someone doesn't look happy, sad, or sorry for me. He just…_looks_.

"How are you going to be my friend?" Sora once told me you can't just make friends because you have to. You have to want to as well. And this person doesn't look like he wants anything.

"You don't like burdening others with your troubles, do you?" The someone doesn't answer my question, only replying with another. I frown. Sora told me that was rude.

But it is even ruder not to answer a question at all, especially if the person asking you is older. "No."

"Talk to me, then. I will not be burdened. I am a part of your subconscious, after all." The someone finally moves, if only to blink those huge, green eyes.

I hesitate for a second. Then I burst into tears and burble everything out to him.

Anwynne's dead.

No one else talks to me at school.

We weren't friends for a whole hand, and now we never will be.

Sora's never here when I need him.

Anwynne's dead.

I'm a monster for blaming others for my own faults, and giving them trouble.

I don't want to be a monster.

Anwynne's dead.

I'm a monster.

Anwynne's never coming back.

I'm alone.

After I'm finished, the someone stays quiet for a while, then says, "You are not a monster, Inoue Orihime. Anyone who acknowledges that they could be a monster is most definitely not."

I blink at him. "How do you know my name?" I ask him.

"I am a part of you."

I bite my lip. It makes sense. "Do you have a name?" He can't be called Orihime too. That would just be weird.

"Ulquiorra Schiffer."

I stare at him blankly for a bit. "That's really hard to say," I tell him finally.

It's so quick that if I'd blinked, I would have missed it, but I didn't blink and I didn't miss it. A small twitch upwards at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sure you'll learn eventually," Ulquiorra assures me.

I nod. "Are you going to be here for a long time, then?" I ask before I can stop myself. It's a bit rude, but I have to know if he's just going to disappear like Anwynne has.

"I will be here for as long as you want me, Inoue Orihime."

"Forever?"

"If you wish."

And I smile.

* * *

**A/N: So? Didja like it so far? I was really trying to get into the psyche of a child for this one (which is surprisingly hard, seeing as I was one once), but I'm not entirely sure it worked. Please review and tell me. Or just review, even. I love reviews, they make me burst. With happiness, not gas or anything. **

**...Okayy...I think I'll go now before I creep you guys out any more. I'm so weird... XD  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, so I realise I said these would be Saturday updates, and the last one was on Sunday, and this one's on Friday, but I'm going on holiday tomorrow and thought ya'll would appreciate an early update more than none at all.  
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**So here it is. XP  
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**Unfortunately, this is the penultimate chapter already. Yes, the next one's the last. (That's what penultimate means)  
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**And I would just like to say that there was a brilliant response to the last chapter! I mean, except for My Little Lodger, I don't think I've had a response that big for the first chapter of any of my fics! Thanks so much to:  
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**chaos-son  
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**silentman97  
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**dragonballzlover2499  
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**ulquihime7980  
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**ulquihimeforever321  
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**Rainbow Fruit Loop  
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**and BDM-girl! Thanks again!  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters. All credit goes to Kubo Tite. Who is not my favouritest person in the world right now as he may have killed a character I like. (If you've read Bleach manga 494, you'll know what I mean.)**

* * *

Not Alone

I open the front door with my key and let myself into the hallway. I've long grown out of the habit of yelling, "I'm home!" after I shut it. Sora's in South Africa with his work now, and there's no one else to answer.

Well, no one except Ulquiorra. But he always knows when I'm back, because he's always there, waiting for me, when I need him. Just sitting on my bed as he always has, from the very first moment I saw him.

I go to him now; it's been a hard day at school and I need to vent. It's not fair to burden everyone else with my problems, but Ulquiorra has assured me that I can tell him, that he _wants_ to know. And so I tell him, because even I know I can't bottle everything up.

I open my door and smile. "Hey, Ulquiorra!" I greet him, skipping over to my bed and planting myself next to him. I make sure not to touch him, though. We have this unspoken agreement that forbids us from making any physical contact. I don't even know why myself, but I have a horrible suspicion that if I touch him, he'll either turn into something very scary, or worse, disappear forever.

So naturally, I don't touch him, and he doesn't touch me.

"Hello Orihime," he replies, awarding me with his own small, rarely seen smile.

I beam even brighter. I adore his smile.

"Happy birthday." His voice snaps me out of my little dazed happy place.

"Ah, thank you! It's so nice you remembered!" I tell him, though I know he couldn't have possibly forgotten, seeing as I've been talking animatedly about it near-constantly for a while now, and he _is _a part of me, after all.

He nods politely, and asks, "Do you feel any different now you're sixteen?"

I consider. "Nope," I conclude after a few seconds. "Pretty samey-same-same, actually."

"I see."

A silence, but it's not awkward. Nothing's awkward with Ulquiorra. Although, that might just be because his aura makes _everything_ awkward and I've just got used to it.

I should think so too, after nine years.

"What do you need to talk about?" he inquires, turning to face me.

I scoff. "What makes you think I have something to talk about? Maybe I just wanted to see you."

"And then again, maybe not. Come, Orihime, you can tell me. It can't possibly be worse than anything else you've told me before."

He's right. It's not. But it's more personal this time. And I don't think I want him to know just yet.

"Orihime…" he murmurs, the closest he'll ever come to begging.

"No, sorry. I don't think I'm quite ready right at this second. But I'll tell you in the end; I always do. You know that," I remind him, wanting to push his shoulder gently, like I'd do with my other friends at this point, but of course I mustn't.

He gives up, (he always knows when it's a lost cause) and leans back on his elbows. "How was school today?" he asks nonchalantly, though I know he cares.

I huff, my fringe lifting from my forehead as my breath hits it. "More assignments. I swear, the teachers are trying to work us to death!" I declare, waving my arms around in frustration.

He shakes his head, tutting quietly under his breath. "I may be inclined to agree with you there. Are you prepared for your exams coming up next week?"

I groan. "God…I'd rather not think about them."

He glances at me from under his thick eyelashes. "How bad is it?"

I know what he means. "Well, Maths is going okay, I think I'll probably be fine with that, but I'm so worried about History! I can't write fast enough to get the timing right and all the dates are really hard to remember!"

Ulquiorra sits up and positions his head so he's looking at me dead on. I gulp. I hate it when he does that. But only because I love it so much that it can't _not_ be illegal.

"You will be fine. I am sure you will be able to memorise the dates in time, and if the timing in the exam doesn't work out and you don't finish, there are always resits. Don't worry too much, you'll make yourself ill," he commands, rather than tells me.

He always knows exactly what I need to hear.

I smile. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Ulquiorra. I owe you one."

He shakes his head lightly, as he always does. "You do not owe me anything, Orihime. All I want is to help you, and the satisfaction of doing my job correctly is repayment enough."

I tilt my head, inquisitive. "Can you feel satisfaction?" I ask.

When I was around eight, Ulquiorra told me that he couldn't feel emotions of his own, only those of other people.

"_Every time you cry, my heart – the one I steal from others – breaks a little more,"_ he'd told me.

I smile sadly at the memory, but soon return to the present.

Ulquiorra's still pondering my question, a look of introspection on his face. Finally, he answers.

"I believe so, yes. It appears I am starting to feel emotions of my own." He doesn't sound exactly thrilled about it, but it's early days in the emotional sense of things, right?

"That's great!" I cheer, grinning all over my face.

He nods absently, still not looking anything more than slightly worried.

"Ulquiorra? What's the matter? Aren't you glad – I'm sorry, _satisfied_ – that you can feel for yourself now?" I inquire, concerned about him a little.

Ulquiorra blinks and looks at me. "I am sorry, I did not mean to worry you," he states woodenly.

I pout. "Don't be ridiculous, I offload all my stress onto you, so why can't you do the same to me, just this once? What's bothering you?"

He breathes in deeply, closing his startling green eyes for a second. Coupled with the curious, tear-like markings on his face, it looks for all the world as if he's stoically weeping for something long-lost.

Finally, he opens his eyes and looks at me again. "I am suspicious that the fact I am beginning to feel my own emotions may be a sign that I am drifting away from you," he tells me frankly, though I can see the trepidation reflected in those emerald pools.

I draw in a sharp breath, sudden terror closing up my throat with constricting tension. "I…I don't want you to go," I croak out when I can, tears brimming in my eyes.

The thought of losing Ulquiorra is worse than the thought of losing everything else, to me.

Ulquiorra's eyes soften with something akin to fondness, laced with not a little concern, and he leans in closer to me, not touching, but close enough that I can feel his breath ghost over my lips.

I shiver, my throat seizing up for a completely different reason this time.

"I will never leave you willingly. I promise you that. I will stay with you as long as possible, until you do not wish to see me any longer," he whispers softly, his lips moving so close to mine, closer than they've ever been before, and I long so much to—

No. That would _definitely _be crossing the line.

"I'd never wish for that," I tell him, "I want to stay with you forever and ever."

"Then so I will," he replies simply. I can practically feel the honesty radiating off his words.

My smile is a bit wobbly, but he returns it without hesitation.

I love his smile so much.

I wrinkle my nose at myself. I'm being vain. No matter how I wish it wasn't true, Ulquiorra is my mind's creation. The fact that everything about him seems so much better than perfect to me is natural, when you consider that.

But I do love his smile.

I love all of him.

And I wish so badly that he could be real, so it could be possible for him to love me back.

But even though he's not, and even though he can't, I'm still happy.

Because he's here.

And I'm not alone.

* * *

**A/N: Was the time-skip confusing for any of you? I hope not, because I hate that in fics I read, and it'd be a fail if I did it myself. DX**

**Again, Ulquiorra is not a Hollow in this fic, so no moaning about OOCness, if you please.  
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**See ya next time! (Saturday! Maybe!)  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it's late, I've been so busy! One day isn't too bad, right? DX  
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**So, guys, this is the last chapter, and I hope it's okay! It was fairly hard to write, but I'm too tired to try to change anything now. (Been ill the whole night)  
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**Great response to last chapter, danke schon to:  
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**Frailgraphics  
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**silentman97  
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**Rainbow Fruit Loop  
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**dragonballzlover2499  
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** Seaweed. Is. My. Name  
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**and LeftHRyder! Thanks again! x  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters. All credit to Kubo-sama. That sounds like a Mario character...probably because I don't play Mario. (Or any video games, really) XD**

* * *

Explanation

If Ulquiorra is alarmed when I suddenly burst into my bedroom and break down crying, he doesn't show it. After all, it's happened many times in the past.

However, after a full quarter of an hour of me sobbing my heart out and not even hinting at any signs of stopping, he finally speaks up.

"Orihime? What is wrong?"

I only cry harder in response, bordering on hysterical now.

"Orihime?" I can hear some diluted form of panic in his voice. I don't think he's ever seen me cry this badly since Anwynne died.

I finally hiccup to a halt, though tears still stream down my face. I look up at him, not ashamed, even though my face must be a huge mess of tears and snot by now. He's seen worse.

"I…I asked out Kurosaki-kun today," I tell him softly, using the Japanese suffix at the end of the name out of habit; Sora's rubbed off on me. I know Ulquiorra knows who Kurosaki Ichigo is. I talk about my friends to him often.

Ulquiorra doesn't say anything, but I know he understands. Ulquiorra always understands.

It's not like I actually expected Ichigo to accept my offer. But…I don't know. I guess I wasn't quite as ready for rejection as I thought.

I'm not even entirely sure why I'm this worked up, either. He was never the first and foremost in my mind in that respect.

But then the one who _is_ is unobtainable as well.

My crying starts again.

Ulquiorra looks sad as he stares at me from under his long fringe that never seems to get to the point where it needs a trim, no matter how many years pass.

"Do not fret, Orihime. The pain will fade, and meanwhile I shall try my hardest to push it to the very back of your mind," he reassures me, making me want to fling myself at him and sob on his shoulder, purely because I can't.

Ulquiorra does always understand.

But there's an exception to every rule.

I don't even care that much about Kurosaki-kun's rejection anymore, not really. I don't think I ever did. He was always a backup plan, something to fall back on when Plan A didn't work out.

Well, perhaps not quite so cruel. I do feel something for him. But it's only a shadow of something much deeper, stronger and more painful.

But now that Plan B's failed too…I have nothing to fall back on. No safety net. Nothing to quench the agony of wanting…wanting _so much_, but not being able to have.

I've stopped crying now, but only because I have no more tears left. Ulquiorra's worry hasn't lessened either; there's a tiny furrow between his eyebrows that only appears when something's really troubling him.

"…This isn't about Kurosaki, is it?" he states wearily, running a hand through his hair.

Now I'm the one to be worried. Maybe listening to all my problems is trying for Ulquiorra. Maybe he'll just give up one day and disappear, never to reveal himself to me again.

"Orihime, tell me what's making you so upset," he demands, pushing his face forward so I can't help but notice every single fleck of emerald, jade and malachite in his concerned eyes.

And suddenly, it all bursts like a balloon waiting to explode, and I can't control myself as I fling my arms around his neck and bury my face in the crook of his neck.

A split second later, though, and I'm drawing back in shock and astonishment.

Because he's not just a mirage, a figment of my imagination.

He's warm.

Solid.

And most definitely, shockingly, _real_.

My frazzled brain can't take it anymore, and I leap off the bed and scramble out of my room, slamming the door behind me. But it's not enough, and I run out of the house as well, my feet pounding on the pavement as I sprint away with no intention other than to get away from the source of the horrible confusion churning around sickeningly in my brain.

And perhaps sort myself out as well.

After nearly fifteen minutes, I reach a bench and collapse on it. I was never the fittest girl in the class, and running that fast for so long has completely exhausted me.

My heart though, even at rest, is hammering like a drum.

Because Ulquiorra's real.

He's really real.

And he _lied _to me.

I shake my head in disbelief. I've told him everything over the past nine years, and got to know him well enough to be certain that he really does want to help me. If he lied, there has to be a good reason.

He's not human, though. He hasn't aged a day since I saw him for the first time.

And suddenly the thought's a lot scarier when I know he's not just a projection of my version of the perfect guy.

But…

That means he isn't just some person I made up subconsciously when my mind was at its most vulnerable.

That means I can love him without feeling guilty, or dirty.

That means he might just be able to love me back.

I hoist myself up off the bench and set off towards my house again. I really did run far; I hope Ulquiorra won't be too worried when I get back home.

Ulquiorra.

What if he thought I didn't want him anymore?

Will he have disappeared, leaving me with a huge, gaping hole where my heart used to be?

I start sprinting again, paying no heed to the excruciating stitch in my side.

He can't be gone.

I have to find him.

I'm on my street now, only a few more metres left to go.

I run through the still-unlocked front door, almost falling with my momentum as I turn the corner into the corridor.

I fling the door to my bedroom open, breathless and flushed.

And there he is, sitting on my bed and looking right at me.

Just has he's always been.

I collapse there and then, crumpling into a heap of sweat, limbs and exhaustion.

"Ulquiorra…" I pant, not managing to say any more.

"Yes, Orihime?"

"I…I'm so glad…you're still here."

"So am I."

I look up at him, and smile breathlessly from my position prostrated on the carpet.

He seems to deliberate, then comes to a decision and stands up.

The feeling I get when his warm hands work their way under my arms to pull me upright is nothing less than pure, undiluted relief.

He's still here, and he's definitely real.

He's _real_.

I still can't get over it.

I fling my arms around his neck for the second time that day (in my life?) and hug him as hard as I can. He returns it gingerly, but I can tell that it's inexperience that is the cause of his hesitation, not distaste.

I pull back a moment later, and slap him hard across the face. Then I embrace him again.

He's quite discombobulated now, so I take pity on him and decide to confront the situation in a way that a non-hysterical male would understand.

"Explain. Now."

He blinks, and obliges. "From when I was five years of age to when I was eighteen, I had a best friend," he starts.

"What happened when you were eighteen?" I prompt, wondering whether it was something similar to what I had experienced at seven.

"He murdered me," comes the simple answer.

I look at him blankly for a good few seconds before the information sinks in. "You're _dead_?" I squeak, absolutely flabbergasted.

He rolls his eyes exasperatedly and shakes his head fondly. "Yes, but that isn't the main point here."

"Then what _is_?" I'm at a loss for what could possibly be more important than the fact that my best friend for nearly a decade is deceased.

Then I remember. "Oh." It must be hard to have the person you care for most…uh, kill you. "Why?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but when I look back on my life, I realise he wasn't exactly the sanest person in this universe. I think he just snapped one day."

"Right…" I say, unconvinced, but talking about this evidently makes Ulquiorra uncomfortable, so I leave it for now. There'll be plenty of time later, after all.

"Anyway, around five decades after my death, I—"

"You've been dead for _fifty years_?" I ask dumbly, in what my brother would call an 'Orihime Moment'.

He levels a look at me. "Nearing sixty now. But again, that is irrelevant. Fifty years after my death, I saw a small girl get hit by a car while she was playing outside her house. I knew in moments that she would never live, and also that she would have a friend somewhere, waiting to see their playmate again. In that moment, I felt a potent urge to protect this friend of the little deceased girl, and provide her with the support I never had after I was separated from my own friend."

I lower my gaze, saddened by the thought of what he would have had to go through.

He lifts my chin up to look me in the eyes, and continues his tale. "So I watched the house of the late girl, until another child, that I knew was the friend I had been waiting for, came to the house to inquire after her companion. After she was bluntly told what has transpired, she walked back to her own accommodation, seeming to be alone there, despite her young age. I then took it upon myself to become visible to her, and only her, in order to aid her through what would undoubtedly be the most challenging period of her life. However, even after that time was passed, I still felt the need to be near her, to help her with her troubles and to comfort her. But I couldn't tell her what I was, because it would trouble her and make her life harder than it was meant to be. So I lied to her for nine years, pretending I was a figment of her imagination. And here we are," he finishes softly, deciding to skip the rest of the story, as I _had _been there for most of it.

I smile up at him shyly, and tentatively place my hand on his cheek. I'm still not accustomed to being able to touch him whenever I feel like it.

"I'm so glad you stayed," I tell him honestly, the words emerging from my throat as barely a whisper. I have to tell him now, the thing that's been on my mind for the past few weeks, though I hid it well. And it's scary, but not overwhelming.

Because this is Ulquiorra.

And I can tell him anything.

I take a long, deep breath. "I love you," I breathe.

He goes very still, then closes his eyes as if pained.

I inhale sharply, suddenly petrified that he never thought of me as anything more than a friend, and that this will drive a wedge between us that we could never dislodge.

I wait in dreadful anticipation, hoping for the best, but as the minutes tick by, my mind is gradually permeated by the awful realisation that the most likely thing to happen now is the worst.

Or one of the 'worst's, anyway. There is only one best in this scenario, and anything else will probably break my heart.

I'm a selfish being, but that's human nature.

While I watch Ulquiorra, the smooth column of his throat contracts and relaxes as he swallows. He slides open his eyes slowly, effectively piercing me with his startling, poignant gaze.

"It can never work," he tells me gently, even tenderly.

But no amount of tenderness can stop my heart from fracturing into a million tiny shards. Two rejections in one day is really taking it a bit too far.

My shoulders slump, and my hand falls from his face. "I see," I state emptily, shifting my gaze to the floor as I determinedly battle against the tears threatening to flood my vision. I cannot make him feel even guiltier than he evidently already does with my pointless tears.

"Not because I don't want to. I do want to," Ulquiorra confesses, which only serves to confuse me more.

"Then why?" I demand, not wanting to push him, but doing so anyway, because it's _my_ heart he broke just now.

"Orihime…" he sighs, running a hand through his thick, raven hair. "I am nearing eighty years old now. You are seventeen. I'm not even _human_. You can do so much better than me."

I snap my head up to meet his gaze, stunned. "_Better _than you?" I spit out, absolutely floored.

He doesn't answer, only looks at me mournfully. For someone who claims to not be in close contact with his emotions, he's got his kicked puppy look down to a T.

"Ulquiorra, maybe I can do better than you. I could go to uni, get a lovely, human boyfriend who would be sweet to me and love me entirely. I could get married and have a family, grandchildren even." His eyes dim behind the vibrant irises, and he nods affirmation, though I know he's dying on the inside. "But I don't want any of that. I don't want anything if it isn't with you," I tell him, expecting another rejection, but not really prepared for it. I doubt I ever could be.

He looks surprised to say the least, his eyebrows raising a fraction of an inch and his eyes widening to the point where they're almost bigger than his face. "But…why?" he asks helplessly, evidently nonplussed.

"Because I love _you_, and I want to be with _you_, and I don't _care_ if you're dead. You've been with me throughout my entire life, and I can't imagine being without you." I know I sound cringe-worthily cheesy, but I'm beyond caring at this point.

"I will not be able to age with you," he warns, as if he thinks I'll care.

"Edward couldn't age with Bella, and they get married in the end," I tell him airily, gesturing with my hand as if to wave his protest away.

"If I remember correctly from your ramblings about the saga, the heroine became immortal as well soon afterwards." Damn. I was hoping he wouldn't remember that.

"That's irrelevant," I quote him, "The point is: I don't care if you can't age with me. I've thought about it, _at length_, and have come to the indisputable conclusion that I won't – _can't _– be happy without you."

Ulquiorra looks at me with pain evident in his features. "I want you to be happy."

"So let me."

"But when you…pass on, I…" he trails off, wincing.

I smile in sympathy. "Would it really hurt less if you'd only ever been my friend?" I ask him.

He doesn't hesitate. "No. If possible, it would hurt more. I want to live your life with you the very best I can."

"Me too." I lean in slowly, not wanting to alarm him. I mean, it must have been a while if he's been deceased for half a century.

My fears are unneeded, though, as he grasps my face in his hands and presses his lips to mine almost hungrily, crushing our bodies together until there is nothing separating us.

I feel lightheaded, twining my arms around his neck to stay upright as I return his kiss with equal fervour.

I've waited so long for this.

We both have.

His tongue forces its way into my mouth and entangles itself with my own, causing me to let out a slightly embarrassing yelp of surprise that quickly morphs into a moan of desire when he bites down tenderly on my lower lip.

I tug on his hair and run my hands through the silken locks, still revelling in the feeling of it.

He seems to be exploiting our new discovery of physical contact too, memorising my face with his fingertips and letting his hands drift down to rest on my collarbone.

The passion of the kiss gradually dwindles into a slow-burning warmth, and Ulquiorra pulls away gently, smiling at me slightly with warm eyes.

"I believe the emotion I am currently feeling would be happiness," he tells me, resting his head on my shoulder and brushing the tip of his nose up and down my neck. "I don't ever want it to stop."

I squeeze him as hard as I can, probably cutting off his air supply, but he doesn't complain. I never want this feeling to stop either.

And the incredible thing is that it won't.

_Finis._

* * *

**A/N: Writing 'finis' at the end of things is so sad! But cool, cos it's Latin! (I think.) O.O  
**

**See you guys another time, maybe?  
**

**Heart tii-chan17. (I've got into the habit of using the word 'heart' instead of 'love'. It sounds better. Like, I Heart London T-Shirts!)  
**


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